Elara Hart should've known she was in trouble the moment Damien Kane's assistant, Victoria, called to cancel a meeting at the last minute.
"Can you cover for me?" Victoria asked cheerfully.
Elara agreed, assuming it would be routine. A favor for a colleague. Nothing more.
But by noon, she realized she wasn't covering a simple meeting. She was essentially replacing Damien for the morning — sorting emails, briefing clients, and fending off questions that seemed designed to unravel her sanity.
And Damien? He was everywhere. Not physically — that would've been easier — but hovering in ways she couldn't quite articulate.
He called her desk multiple times under the pretense of "clarifying instructions" and "ensuring accuracy," but every conversation ended with subtle remarks:
"Make sure you don't skip any details."
"I'd hate for mistakes to ruin this, Hart."
"Keep me updated, please. I trust your judgment."
All polite. All professional. Yet somehow, each statement carried a weight she couldn't ignore — possessive, deliberate, personal.
---
By three o'clock, she was running between meetings and tasks, her heels clicking against the marble floors. She rounded the corner into the executive suite and nearly collided with Damien himself.
"You're everywhere," she gasped.
His gaze pinned her. "And you're still managing to survive. Impressive."
"Survive? It's chaos. Pure chaos," she muttered.
"And yet you thrive," he said smoothly, sliding an envelope across her desk. "Here. For the investors. Make sure it's perfect."
She opened it — detailed notes, highlights, even suggestions he hadn't asked for. It was clear he'd spent the morning scrutinizing everything she'd done.
"Did you…?" she began, looking up at him.
"I like knowing what's happening," he said, lips barely twitching. "Especially when it involves you."
Her stomach dropped. Did he just—?
She forced herself to focus on the papers. "Right. Thanks, Mr. Kane."
"You're welcome," he said softly. But the soft tone didn't match the intensity of his gaze.
---
By late afternoon, Elara realized she hadn't stopped moving for five hours. Every client briefing, every correction, every "quick question" from Damien pulled her into a vortex of attention she couldn't escape.
When she finally sat down for a breath, her phone buzzed. A text from Damien:
"Meeting postponed. Stay at the office until it's rescheduled. I'll stop by."
Stay at the office? She wanted to groan, but a strange thrill ran through her.
A few minutes later, he appeared. Not with a task or a critique. Just… Damien Kane, in his perfectly tailored suit, leaning against her desk. Watching. Waiting.
"You're still here," he noted.
"Yeah, apparently I'm indispensable," she said wryly, spinning her chair toward him.
"I like that you're indispensable," he murmured, his eyes dark and unreadable.
Her pulse quickened. "Uh… thanks?"
He stepped closer. "Don't thank me. Just… keep doing what you're doing. It's… effective."
Effective? She wasn't sure if he meant her work or the effect she had on him.
---
The rest of the afternoon was a series of subtle intrusions. Damien finding "reasons" to pull her aside. Quick glances, brushes of his hand against hers, standing just a little too close during document reviews. Each moment was calculated, and yet, to her dismay, intoxicating.
At one point, a junior associate tried to interrupt their discussion with a question. Damien's sharp, almost predatory glare silenced them instantly.
"Not now," he said smoothly, his attention snapping back to Elara. "We're handling this."
Elara's stomach fluttered, a mix of alarm and excitement. Protective. Possessive. Deliciously dangerous.
By six, the office was emptying. She packed her things, trying to maintain her composure.
Damien lingered by the door. "You should go home," he said.
"I… I will," she replied, though her eyes didn't leave his.
"Good." He hesitated, then added softly, "But stay safe. Don't let anyone… bother you."
Her chest tightened. "I'm not a child, Mr. Kane."
"I know," he said, the faintest edge of something personal in his voice. "I just… prefer to know you're okay."
She swallowed hard, heart racing, and stepped past him. Yet as she left, she couldn't shake the feeling: he wasn't just watching her work. He was watching her.
And that, more than any boardroom, any deal, any late-night meeting, was utterly terrifying.
And utterly irresistible.